


The Little Shop of Castiel

by gwendolyndark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Acting, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Internalised Homophobia, M/M, little shop of horrors - Freeform, use of trigger words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwendolyndark/pseuds/gwendolyndark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas plays Seymour in his college production of Little Shop of Horrors. Dean is in charge of building the set and slowly falls in love with the actor wearing thick rimmed glasses and tucked-in button down shirts. [Not my summary but from Tumblr user skelecas].</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enter Castiel Novak, Stage Centre

### Chapter One

#### Enter Castiel Novak, Stage Centre

He was a little timid, and that’s what first drew me to the black haired, blue eyed boy in the drama department. It was my first day on the stage and the director was giving me instructions on what he wanted where. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don't act in the slightest. No, I built the set. It was supposed to be done long before the cast started blocking their roles, but the director, Gabriel, didn't get his ass in gear until the third week of rehearsals. It didn't help that Bobby was supposed to help me build, but he bailed on me for one of Sam's big projects. I wasn't going to complain; Sam was priority. He always had been. It was fine.

But anyway, back to the blue eyed (even from that distance, I could tell that they were startlingly blue) boy. He was petite and had long, lithe fingers. Why was I thinking about his fingers? His outfit was stereotypical for a slightly hipster college student: Sperry's, straight leg jeans (the atypical), and a cobalt blue cardigan pulled over a maroon, collared, button down shirt. _Maybe he's gay,_ I thought, my lips twitching uncomfortably. I didn't have anything against gays, but something about them always hitting on me made me uncomfortable. I shook my head clear and focused on Gabriel again.

"You want what?" I asked, thinking I hadn't heard the man correctly.

"I would like," Gabriel began again, and I could tell that his impatience was beginning to thin. Not only because of me, but also because of a certain red-headed girl who was getting touchy with the blue-eyed boy.

Gabriel lost his train of thought to yell, "Miss Masters! Personal space with Castiel!" So now I had a name for the mystery. _An odd name, too. He must be close to this Castiel to call him by his first name._

The two split apart, Castiel blushing a vibrant shade of red. (Maybe I was wrong. That reaction isn't for a homo.) A sigh came from my left and Gabriel continued, stressing the first three words, _"I would like,"_ he paused, glancing around to see if someone else would cause him to interrupt. He smiled a little when no one did. "A set of stairs, probably seven or so steps, and a revolving platform with supported flats on both sides." He handed me a piece of paper with dimensions and colours on it.

My eyes widen faintly, surprised. "A problem, Mr. Winchester?"

I shook my head but was unable to get a word in because another voice interrupted mine.

"Winchester? You're related to Sam, are you not?"

I looked up quickly from the page and felt my face go red. I hadn't heard him come up beside Gabriel. Usually I had impeccable senses. Up close, Castiel's eyes were an even vivider blue, with specks of cerulean and silver. They were expressive, and at the moment, they showed interest and curiosity. Castiel was only a smidgen shorter than myself and his nearly black hair was tousled like he'd just gotten out of bed—which was quite possible, as it was nine in the fucking morning. I had only just finished my coffee and I was still partially asleep. Somehow, though, Castiel had a charm about him that caught my attention, though I was still hoping that he wasn't gay so I could actually be friends with him.

I had no idea why, but I was oddly relieved when no one noticed my blush. I nodded quickly and a smile broke across my lips. "Yeah, Sam's my kid brother."

I was proud of Sammy. Always had been. He was a good kid, with a full ride to Stanford when he graduated in the summer. I said as much, and added, "He's taking courses here this semester to get a jump start."

Castiel nodded, his eyes trained on me like I was the only thing that mattered. It was slightly unnerving. "Yes, he is in my advanced Latin course." A pause, and then a look crossed Castiel's face and his brow wrinkled. He held out his hand abruptly. "I am Castiel Novak."

It was a weird kind of politeness, one that you would think was proper unless you watched him. And I did. Castiel Novak had trembling fingers and he had a nervous sort of smile on his face. It was as though he had just remembered that he didn't know who I was, and tried to smooth it into the conversation. "Dean Winchester," I replied, taking and shaking the hand that Castiel had thrust out.

"Yes, yes." I heard the impatience in Gabriel's voice as he waved his hands. I dropped Castiel's hand. "You have met, now back to work." He gave a pointed look at Castiel and then to the Master's girl, then turned to me. "You looked hesitant, Winchester. Too much for you?" A smirk twitched Gabriel's lips up and for a moment, I thought of him as a fellow student instead of the director, aiming a challenge to me.

"Hm?" I aimed a look at Gabriel and then inspected the set, visualising what he wanted. I shook my head again. "I was thinking that seven steps may be too many for the height of the curtains." I reached into my memories of past performances that Bobby and I had constructed for and nodded. "There's a five-stepper back in Bobby's garage that we can reuse." Challenge accepted.

It wasn't like Gabriel was new, but he had taken off a couple years for so-called "family issues". Hey, I wasn't complaining. A break from the intense, sweets loving man was a needed breather.

Gabriel clapped his hands together and nodded, grinning gleefully. "That will be perfect." He turned to the cast and clapped his hands again, twice, to gain their attention.

I rolled my eyes. His over enthusiasm was exhausting, to be frank. I just wanted to get my job done and get out of here.

As he spoke to them, I made my way onto the stage and pulled out my tape measure and masking tape to mark off areas that the set would go, and set a pencil behind my ear. I whistled an underlying tune to keep myself distracted and set to work.

In the middle of marking a line for the stairs, a pair of Sperry's clad feet interrupted my tapping of Kansas on the floor. I glanced up quickly, quickly enough to realise that it was Castiel, and stood. "You're messing with my groove, man." _God, that line sounded so hippie,_ I thought, but ignored it.

My statement sat stagnant in the air for a good minute before Castiel spoke. "Your brother is a bright young man," he said, as if our conversation hadn't ended nearly an hour ago.

I had to quickly swap tracks of thought to follow what the guy was talking about. "Oh." I answered stupidly. _Really Dean,_ I chastised myself, _you've had smoother lines._ The other half of me fought with that statement; I wasn't trying to get him in bed. For Christ's sake, I was straight. "Yeah, I'm real proud of Sammy. All that Latin shit, it's going straight into law school." I rolled my eyes, pretending to not care.

But to be honest, I was jealous of Sam. He was the smart one: getting a full ride to a prestigious school, going in for law of all things, and he was in college courses his senior year of high school. I knew what was in my future, had since I was young. I was gonna graduate and go straight to Bobby's garage. It wasn't like I didn't want to do that; cars were my passion. But I was going to stay in this town and work on cars for the rest of my life. I had worked to push Sam through school and was still going to have to work to pay for his college; the scholarship simply lightened the load. But I didn't need help from anyone. So yes, I suppose you could say I was proud of my little brother.

"He's really very well versed in Latin, Dean. I am sure that he'll do well in law school." Castiel still seemed polite and proper, though I could infer that it was forced. He was uncomfortable, but not of me. I, of course, wasn't going to press someone I had just met.

I just got a stupid grin on my face—like I always did while talking about Sam. Yes, he'd go far in life, maybe even marry his high school sweetheart Jessica.

We spoke for a little while longer, until Gabriel reined him back in for rehearsal. Castiel gave me a hesitant, apologetic smile before skittering back to the group.

I smiled to myself, still thinking of Sam, and turned back to my work. _Maybe we'll be friends,_ I thought vaguely. I wasn't one to make friends, but with Castiel I was comfortable already.


	2. Enter Charlie Bradbury, Stage Left

### Chapter Two

#### Enter Charlie Bradbury, Stage Left

I worked for the next week tirelessly, in between my courses. Since I was on a tight schedule, I even skipped a couple of my classes; prep classes, unimportant for working on cars for the rest of my life. The only thing I really breaked for was to pick up Sam from school and to eat.

I finished the larger piece fairly quickly and had to set up the rest of it on stage, usually when the cast was rehearsing music in practice rooms. Sometimes, though, they'd do blocking and I'd just pop in headphones and jam out to Metallica and Lynyrd Skynyrd. I had to be careful not to dance, even a jerk of my hips and knees, in front of the drama department.

During small breaks, Castiel would sit near me while I worked and we would just talk, or he would watch me. I was right when I thought we'd become friends, and it was a little weird how well we got along.

One of our conversations turned to school and beyond. Castiel had asked me, "You're a junior, right? And you have your own place?"

I nodded, pressing my lips together in concentration, trying to line up the two flats in front of me perfectly. "Uh huh. And you're a sophomore?" I took a quick glance at him and fought down my instinct to blush. Castiel was staring intently at me with those piercing eyes.

He looked down quickly. "It must be nice," Castiel said quietly, his fingers—those same damn fingers that had me so intrigued—flitting nervously on his lap.

I had grown used to Castiel's nervousness, even in the week or so that I had known him. I picked up on people's emotions and habits. Sam always said it was my "Gift". I shrugged a little, nonchalantly, tapping a nail into place. "It gets lonely sometimes, but I suppose it's nice to have my own space. You fighting with your roomie or something?" I smirked, remembering my first two years with a roommate.

A rustle and I assumed Castiel was shaking his head, hair tossed and messy like usual—seriously did he even try to style it?—and replied, "No, my family keeps," a pause, "they keep a tight wrap on me, so I live at home." I looked at him as he glanced toward Gabriel. "Gabe is my only salvation, and this place."

His casual use of a nickname for Gabriel made me think. Out loud. "Hey, isn't Gabriel's last name kinda like yours?" I frowned, trying to recall.

A soft laugh broke my thoughts and I looked quickly at Castiel. His shoulders were trembling and his eyes were closed, crinkling at the corners. I could hear my own words in my head and put it together. "Hey! You're laughing at me!" But there was no real malice behind it, as it was the first time I'd ever heard Castiel laugh so freely. That made him laugh harder, and I began to grin; it was contagious somehow.

I enjoyed his laugh. I enjoyed being around Castiel. As much as he seemed uncomfortable, I felt a sort of ease in his presence. No stipulations, no worrying about the rest of my life. It was just Castiel and I. And it was beginning to weird me out. "Gabe is my... older brother, Dean."

I sniffed and twirled my pencil, trying to recover at least some of my pride. I nodded, frowning. "I knew that."

A kind smile crossed Castiel's lips. "Of course you did."

Castiel's smile made my stomach do a flip, so I changed the subject. "Are you close to him, then?" I made another pencil mark, where the steps would slot in with the makeshift entryway.

"Yes, but only Gabe." Castiel didn't offer any further explanation, and I didn't ask. A silence fell over us until Gabriel called everyone back for lines.

I hadn't heard anyone sing yet, but I just expected that that was going on in the practice rooms until the blocking was finished. Usually the set was already built and painted and I was never there when the cast started blocking. So this was a new thing for me.

It was a few rehearsals later and Castiel hadn't spoken to me or approached me. I didn't know what that was about, but I watched him from a distance to see if I couldn't figure it out. I was gonna just let it go, just like everyone and everything else that happened, until I saw that Castiel seemed to keep his distance from most people, and he seemed more skittish than he had been previously. It wasn't until after one rehearsal nearly a week later that Castiel approached me and spoke again. I always stayed after hours to clean up and to recheck everything, but it was abnormal that when everyone packed up and said their goodbyes, Castiel was left standing by himself in the theatre.

Well, not completely by himself. Gabriel was speaking to him in hushed tones, but his voice was still reverberating through the spacious room. I couldn't hear anything they were saying, and I tried to just ignore them, but my gaze kept being drawn back to Castiel and his brother.

Gabriel seemed to be chastising Castiel for something and kept motioning and waving his hands, sometimes in my direction. Castiel was fidgeting and it was a sign that he was uncomfortable. A voice was raised and I heard Castiel, "I know, Gabriel!"

I almost rose to my feet at that; Castiel was getting flustered and upset. _Why does it matter?_ I thought, shaking my head. _That’s stupid; we’re not even that close._ So I pushed my concern down and flipped open my phone. I shot a quick text to my painter—and best friend—Charlie. **Careful when u come.**

It wasn't half a minute later and my phone buzzed in my pocket. I checked it quickly; **Okay!** was all it said. She was always over excited about something. My attention was turned back to Castiel, who was making his way toward me, looking tired and disheveled. Gabriel was walking up the steps to the exit, and as the door closed, Castiel sat heavily beside me.

"Everything okay?" I tried to keep neutral, not sure where we stood or if we were even friends.

Castiel nodded. "I apologise, Dean, if I have disrupted you."

I glanced away, trying not to make a weird face. "Nah, man, it's cool. I've just been wondering why you've been avoiding me the past week." _Shit. That wasn't supposed to come out. You sound like a damn girl. C'mon, Dean. Get it together._

Castiel's eyebrows shot up and I turned back to the drawing in my hand.

"It was a personal item that was distracting me, not of import." And again, Castiel didn't offer any further explanation.

I was starting to get uncomfortable with the silence and with Castiel's staring, and hoped that Charlie would come in soon.

To hopefully dispel the tension in the theatre, I asked slowly, “So, Castiel, why haven't I seen you, even though you're a sophomore? I'm used to seeing people around—even in the theatre— but I haven't seen you.”

Castiel’s back straightened and I could tell he was immediately uncomfortable. “My family has kept me close to them since my senior year of high school. I did not immediately go to college, and took summer courses to make it through freshman year.”

And that was that. There wasn’t anything else to say on the matter, and I mumbled a quick _‘Oh, I’m sorry’._ The silence took us over, until Castiel spoke again. "Dean, I know this isn't any of my business, but I'm simply curious. Are you used to people just leaving you behind?"

I stared at Castiel, a dumbfounded look on my face. And I thought my question had been intrusive. Sure I was used to people leaving me behind. Sam and I's parents died when we were young; I was only four, Sammy six months old. Bobby sometimes left for stretches of time. Lisa, my ex, strung me along for a long while before leaving. I had trust issues, and I didn't like it when practical strangers prodded me about them. "You're right. It isn't any of your business." My voice was clipped and sharp, hopefully indicating that the conversation was over.

Castiel nodded. And he just split his gaze between the floor and me, giving me a piercing look that was really unnerving. The silence was broken quickly when the side doors flew open and Charlie waltzed in, a grin on her face.

I stood quickly, relieved to break the uncomfortable tension between me and Castiel, and embraced Charlie as she skipped up the steps. "Long time, no see, Charlie." She was like the little sister I never wanted.

Charlie wriggled from my arms and laughed, "It's been like a week, Dean." She looked past me at Castiel, and then raised her eyebrows at me. "Who's this?"

I turned slowly as Castiel stood. "Castiel Novak. He's a sophomore, and for some reason, he's tagging along with me." I winked at him, teasing him, and smirked as Castiel blushed a bright red.

He took the few steps to stand beside me and extended his hand to Charlie. "Hello."

"You're so dreamy!" Charlie shook his hand and grinned as he blushed even more. "I'm Charlie Bradbury. Junior, painter extraordinaire."

A thick silence fell over the theatre as all three of us stood, waiting for someone to speak first.

It was me. I clapped my hands together and turned to Charlie. "Well, all right. I'll show you what's what and we can start planning how much paint we need to buy."

Charlie nodded sharply. "Roger." She seemed so serious, and I was wondering when—there we go. Cracked up, a grin splitting her lips. She waved her hand after a moment and said, a little out of breath, "I'm sorry, sorry. Gimme the paper."

We worked in quiet companionship, writing down paint colours from memory. Charlie and I had always been on the same wavelength, finishing each other’s sentences. It was unnerving when we first met, but I just rolled with it.

After a while, I heard Castiel clear his throat behind me and I jumped; I had nearly forgotten the kid was there. Turning, I set a hand on my hip. "Yeah?" I wasn't trying to be rude, but I guess it came out that way when Castiel's expression twitched into something unreadable.

"I think I'm going to leave. My family is expecting me home soon, and I am just in the way here." Castiel nodded at me and said to Charlie, "It was pleasant meeting you, Charlie."

Charlie grinned, thinking nothing of Castiel's awkward farewell. "'Bye Castiel!"

A tight smile and a mumbled ‘Goodbye, Dean’ was aimed in my direction and Castiel left, his quiet, measured steps making their way to the exit.

"Soooo," Charlie turned on me and I groaned. _I knew this was coming,_ I thought briefly before, "This friend of yours...."

"Shut it, Charlie." I muttered roughly, "He's just a friend. Hardly that."

"What? He seems to like you, Dean!" Charlie rolled her eyes in a way that only Charlie could. Endearing, yet sarcastic at the same time.

I cuffed her lightly on the back of the head and tapped the paper. "What about the brick?"

Charlie perked right up. _Way to go, Dean. Got her distracted._ I didn’t want to talk about the way that Castiel seemed to look at me sometimes, like he was staring into my soul and seeing me for what I was worth; which wasn’t much. It was creepy, and I’d rather ignore it, thank you very much.

"Oh that's easy! Just paint it rust red and use a sponge in brown and green to make it brick-ey." Charlie nodded, looking pleased with herself.

I nodded, an approving frown on my face. “Sounds good.” I paused and then glanced where Castiel had gone.

When I looked back at Charlie again, she had a smirk on her face. “You’ve got the hots for him, don’t you, Dean?”

I blushed. “No. Charlie, just because you’re gay, doesn’t mean everyone is. I’m into chicks. Not…” I had to pause for a moment to keep from saying Castiel, “guys.”

Charlie smiled knowingly and turned back to her, scowling. “Whatever you say, Romeo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's Tuesday, and that means another chapter. I'll try to upload this once a week, but uni, so there's no promises.


	3. Enter Crowley MacLeod, House Right

### Chapter Three

#### Enter Crowley MacLeod, House Right

It was two weeks later and Castiel was asking again about a personal issue. I thought he had learned his lesson the first time, but now we were closer, I guess. We talked more than we had before during rehearsal and even sometimes after, when Charlie and I were doing the set.

Charlie constantly teased me and poked at me—as did Jo—about ‘their fact’ that I was crushing on Castiel. The only problem was that I wasn’t. And that was ‘my fact’ that I constantly told them, when Castiel couldn’t hear, of course.

But back to the question. “Why'd you pick up shop? Like doing the set and stuff?” Castiel blushed a little bit and picked at one of the buttons of his button-down shirt, thick-rimmed glasses pushed up on his head. The act made his hair stand even more mussed and I fought the urge to pull the glasses off and fix his hair. _Stupid, stop._

I sighed; I supposed I could tell him a _little_ bit of my shitty life. “It was to gain an extra break for Sam. I wouldn't put it all on Bobby’s shoulders.” Shrugging, I tried to put it off as nothing. “I get a little bit for this, well, what Gabriel gives me under the table because usually I wouldn’t get paid, but most of what goes to Sam’s education is working at Bobby’s garage.”

I said a bit more than I thought I would, but with how Castiel was looking at me, with open eyes and an innocent face, I just wanted to talk to him.

Castiel slowly nodded and looked over to where Meg and Crowley were rehearsing their scenes together as Audrey and the Dentist. Castiel watched as the duo argued their lines and then something happened that actually made me jump a little, as much as I hate to admit.

As it was scripted, the Dentist—Crowley—was supposed to hit Audrey—Meg. But since it was a stage performance, it was supposed to be a staged hit. But, it panned out differently.

“Get the Vitalis. Quick, the Vitalis!” the line went from Crowley.

And Meg replied with, “I’m out of it!”

After that is supposed to be the staged hit. But instead, Crowley’s hand contacted with Meg’s cheek and there was a slap that resounded throughout the theatre. Castiel was on his feet in an instant and yelling, “Don’t actually hit her, Crowley!” at the same time that Gabriel yelped, “Crowley!” and Meg ricocheted away from the situation, holding her cheek.

Crowley faced Gabriel and then raised his eyebrows quickly at Castiel. There was a word on the tip of his tongue that I could see, and he mouthed _fa…_ before smirking and looking at Gabriel again. “My hand slipped, Gabriel,” he said, shrugging and putting a small frown on his face.

 _What the hell was that,_ I thought, my eyebrows coming together, trying to figure it out.

Castiel immediately plopped back down and stared at the floor resolutely and I could see his jaw working silently. I was confused and looked at Gabriel with an awkward and uncomfortable look that I’m sure was on my face.

Gabriel chastised Crowley quickly and checked over Meg before calling out to Castiel, “Castiel, a word.”

I slowly turned back to my work as Castiel stood, his hands in fists, and walked over to where Gabriel was standing off to the side. They talked in hushed voices, much like the two weeks prior.

Charlie stepped back in, two cans of paint in her hands, and set them beside me. “What’s goin’ on?” she asked, chipper as ever.

I stood, rubbing my sweaty palms on my thighs and grunted noncommittally. “Crowley hit Meg and Castiel freaked.” I thought about what that meant. _Maybe he has a crush on Meg?_ It wouldn't have surprised me. Whatever.

I cracked open the paint cans and frowned. “I thought we were doing brick today.”

“We are!” I glanced up at Charlie, more confused than ever. “We have to mix them first,” she continued.

Setting the lids back on, I grumbled, “And this is why I just build, not paint.”

“Uh uh, mister, you’re helping me this year. Last year I barely got it done in time, and there’s less time this year.”

I rolled my eyes, but secretly I was sorta glad for that. I’d get to see Castiel more often. _Back the bus up,_ I thought. That was a weird thought; Castiel and I were just friends. I wasn’t gay. I was just… sort of attracted to Castiel because he was feminine. _…right?_ I looked at Charlie, realising I had been silent a moment too long. “Yes, yes, I’ll help you.”

Castiel made his way back over to Charlie and I and rehearsal resumed. “What was that about?” I asked, not looking up from the paint tray I was pouring into. “What did Crowley say, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel mumbled. I glanced up and caught him staring at me—or the paint, I wasn’t sure. “I think I’ll stay later this after practice today." He then added hastily, "If that's amiable, of course."

"Yeah, Castiel, that's fine." I wasn't sure why he was asking me, exactly, but whatever. I cleaned up the side of the paint can and started mixing. "This good?" I glanced to Charlie, who looked into my paint and nodded.

"Uh huh! That's good!" She made a face at me. "And you don't call yourself a painter."

A snort escaped me and I gasped out between laughs, "Just wait until I actually start painting."

In the end, I didn't get to paint. I made a mess of the paints and nearly tipped a full can of paint into my open pocket and onto the floor, all while Castiel was silently laughing at me in between his scenes. After that, Charlie revoked my privileges. "Go back under the stairs!" she'd said, and I shuffled my way shamefully to steady the stairs with a few nails.

But it was when practice was over and everyone had gone home for the day when shit started to go down.

Charlie had just left and Castiel was making his way up to sit on the stage near me, like he usually did. I was still working on the stairs, so I glanced over and asked, against my better judgement, "You alright there?" I wasn't a feely sort of guy, but everything about this situation felt weird, so hey, why not?

Castiel just shrugged stiffly in response, and didn't say anything for a long moment. When I turned back to my work, though, Castiel spouted, "Crowley's just an arrogant asshole who thinks he can get away with everything because his father funded half of the university."

I whistled slowly and my hands paused, but I didn't look at Castiel, not yet. "Whoa there, I'm sure he didn't mean to hit Meg." _Even though he probably did,_ I added silently. I didn't know Crowley well, but what I had gotten was that he was exactly how Castiel had described. But he hadn't done anything to me, so why the hell did I care?

"He did, Dean, and you know he did, as does everyone else." Castiel stood, his hands going to fists. "Just no one will do anything because they're all intimidated by him!"

I slid out from underneath the stairs and leaned my forearms on my knees. "C'mon, Castiel, it's over now. I'm sure Gabriel'll not let it happen again."

Then another thought occurred to me. "Maybe Crowley was just trying to piss you off. What was it that he mouthed?" I shrugged. "Seemed like he was trying to get your attention, man. Don't let it bother you." That was my philosophy for everything, or I tried to make it that. Let everything roll off and you'd be fine.

Castiel stared down at me, a mixture of hurt and anger in his startlingly blue eyes. "He started to say something very rude, Dean."

"Well look who it is, Azazel. Deadbeat Dean and The Faggot. Together at last. They make quite the duo, don't you agree?" Crowley waltzed in, dressed in black, his so-called "friend" at his heels.

Azazel nodded enthusiastically. "Looks like we've got two faggots now, Crowley."

"Yes, yes. You hang around one, Winchester, you become one, you know?" The sneer on Crowley's face could've curdled milk.

 _So that's what it was,_ I thought briefly before springing to my feet. "Shut the hell up, Crowley. You have no grounds here."

"Actually, this," Crowley pointed to the floor, "is the theatre. I have grounds here, as you say, just as you and The Faggot do."

I saw Castiel flinch out of the corner of my eye and a stupid feeling ran down my back. "Stop calling him that, Crowley. If you're just gonna be a dick, leave."

"Don't get your panties in a twist now,"― _God, I hated this guy already_ ―"we just came to see―"

"Came to see what," I snapped, not allowing Crowley to finish. I don't think I wanted him to finish, for the sake of Castiel, who was trembling at my side. "Get out, Crowley. And don't fucking ever talk about me or my friend like that again." I was seething, and nearly spat my words at him like poison.

The stockier boy held his hands up in mock surrender. "Sheesh, Winchester. Getting a mite territorial over him, are you?" Crowley smirked, but continued through the theatre, Azazel still following near him.

I turned to Castiel once they were gone. I forced a short laugh and said, "Dumbasses, yeah?" but the blue-eyed boy was already forcing his things into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Dean," he mumbled, before shooting off the stage and toward the back of the theatre to leave.

I frowned and my eyes narrowed. "Castiel," I called, but I didn't know how to finish my thought. I didn't want to believe that what Crowley said was true―about Castiel being gay―so I shut that out of my mind for the time being. It would just complicate things, and it was so easy around Castiel right now. _No,_ I thought, _complicated is bad. Just don't ask._ Ignorance was bliss after all, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's Tuesday again, and I barely got this finished in time before I fell asleep last night, and I really wanted to get it uploaded before 9, when Supernatural airs where I am. 7:55, cutting it close. Oh well!


	4. Enter Azazel Johnson, Downstage

### Chapter Four

#### Enter Azazel Johnson, Downstage

“Castiel!” It was the beginning of rehearsal the following week when Gabriel called Castiel over to him, looking grim.

Castiel shot me a fleeting look before heading over to his older brother. _What the hell,_ I thought, taking a breath. Maybe it was about what Crowley did the previous week. The kid looked pretty spooked, if you asked me. But no one did, of course.

Gabriel sent Castiel to change for dress rehearsal and someone stepped downstage. My anger flared briefly before I pushed it down. Azazel.

“Gabriel, is this the right blocking?” he asked, pointing down at his feet. In rehearsal, he looked and acted pleasant enough.

The director looked up quickly from where he sat and nodded. “Now the lines, Mr. Johnson, if you please.”

When the douche started saying Castiel’s lines, I suddenly got it. _He brought in an understudy for Castiel._ Or maybe, he wasn’t just an understudy. When Castiel reappeared, I stood and walked over to him, casual as I could.

“Hey buddy, what do you think Azazel is doing up there?” I asked.

Castiel didn’t look at Azazel, and didn’t meet my eyes either. “Gabe brought in Azazel as a double cast for me,” he said matter-of-factly.

“What?” I was even more confused, and voiced it by saying, “But you’ve been doing perfectly fine.” As a second thought, I added quietly, “Except for that shit last week… but that wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, well, there are other parameters that add to Gabe adding Azazel to the cast.” And that was it. Castiel didn’t say any more, and I didn’t ask him, feeling weird.

“Alright, man,” I said, shaking my head. _Whatever. It isn’t my place to go asking shit._

Rehearsal after that day went smoothly, except that I could see that Azazel was slowly trying to dissuade Castiel from even having his part. I’d say that Gabriel didn’t notice, but the gentle nudging to Castiel made it pretty obvious, at least to me, who paid attention to that sort of stuff. I did the same thing to Sam on a regular basis: push him into thinking it’s _his_ idea to do better, to get better. Even though it really was, sometimes Sammy got discouraged with our lack of funds.

But one day after rehearsal, it all became clearer. Charlie had to leave early for some comic club meeting, so I was left by myself to clean up and make sure everything was where it should be. It wasn’t a problem, obviously, and Castiel stayed after as well to help me. _When did I rely on Castiel to be here to keep my company?_ I thought briefly as I hammered down the sides to a paint can.

“I feel like I owe you some explanation, Dean,” Castiel said from somewhere behind me, and I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes to slow my beating heart.

“Dammit, Castiel, you can’t just sneak up on me like that,” I said after I’d calmed a little. I set the hammer down and turned on my toes to look up at him, “and you don’t owe me anything, I don’t think.”

Castiel shook his head. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Something changed in Castiel’s eyes as he looked down at me, and he sighed. “We are friends, Dean, aren’t we?”

I nodded, wary. “Yeah…”

“Then I owe you an explanation.”

I nodded again.

“Gabe brought in Azazel after I spoke to him about Crowley… terrorising us. He thought it would be a good idea to bring in someone as a… precaution.” Castiel spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully.

“Castiel, what the hell are you talking about? Precaution?” I was more confused, and I couldn’t figure out anything that he was trying to say.

“Dean, I haven’t told you why Gabriel took a ‘break’”—Castiel used air quotations, and I couldn’t help but glance at his slender fingers—“for a few years, have I?”

I shook my head and motioned for Castiel to sit. It looked like this might be a long conversation, and my neck was starting to get a crick in it from looking up.

Castiel took the seat and situated himself before speaking again. “Family issues, I’m sure they told you?” Castiel’s fingers were fidgeting in his lap and I had to fight to keep from reaching out and taking his hands in mine to keep them still.

_Where the fuck are these impulses coming from?_ I thought. “Yeah, that’s what the sub director said the first year, and then again the second year. It didn’t seem too important, so I didn’t ask.” I didn’t add that it also felt like I was prying.

“Well,” he took a breath. “That was because of me.” Castiel stared at me, and his blue eyes bore into my green ones as he waited for a reaction.

I nodded slowly, adding things up. “Okay… so Gabriel took time off to help you… with what?” I blurted the words before thinking, but assumed that if Castiel expected me to talk about my family sometimes and be under his scrutiny, he could deal with the same.

Castiel was silent for a few minutes and I let him be. The kid seemed to be trying to figure out what exactly to tell me. “I had been having family issues during my senior year of high school, and Gabe was the only one who understood; who could control me, as my mother put it. So he was called back to deal with me. But the only problem was, when he returned, I was already gone.” He paused.

“As in, you ran away? Or…” I left it open, really not getting it.

Castiel nodded. “Yes, I had run away. And I would not even tell Gabriel where I’d gone, so they went looking for me.”

My head was swimming with this new information, and I wasn’t sure how to react. _Okay, so Castiel’s mother thought something was wrong with him, and since he was a problem child, he thought he’d run away. Alright…_ I guessed that made sense.

“And when they found me, I was confined to the house indefinitely, until my sophomore year of university, when Gabriel had to return to direct here and he somehow convinced Mother to allow me to attend school here, as long as Gabe had his eye on me.” Castiel shrugged. “I suppose she thought that Gabe could keep me from running again. Even though I still live at home.”

Castiel fell silent, and I assumed that meant he was done talking. I took a deep breath, unsure how to respond. Words and emotions weren’t my strong point, obviously. “That would explain a lot, I guess. Is Gabriel afraid you’ll drop off the map again ‘cuz of Crowley so he brought in Azazel? Doesn’t he realise that Azazel is one of Crowley’s buddies?”

“No,” Castiel said, “I didn’t tell Gabe that Azazel was with Crowley. I wasn’t even going to tell him about Crowley coming here, but I guess I wasn’t acting like ‘normal’.” Again with the air quotes.

I shook my head, but understood where Castiel was coming from. If it was me, I wouldn’t tell Bobby to save my life. “I get that. That it wasn’t his problem; it was ours.”

Castiel gave me a fleeting look that I couldn’t place. A light smile replaced it and Castiel stood and grasped my paint can. “I’ll help you clean up, today, Dean. As payment for trying to help with Crowley, and for allowing me to speak to you.”

“Hey,” I said, “What’re friends for?” But another thought was going through my head, and it left me more confused than I’d ever been in a while. _Are we friends? I didn’t think that friends gave each other secret looks and stared at their hands and thought about how fucking perfect they are._

I needed to figure some shit out, and that shit involved Castiel, whether he knew it or not. But something told me he did, with the look he gave me a few minutes before, and how we kept glancing at each other during rehearsal.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm so sorry that I didn't upload this last week. I got soooo behind and didn't get anything done, to be honest. Oh well.


	5. Enter Dean's Emotions, Set Left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotsa character development in this chapter. I hope it all turned out right and properly Dean-y!

### Chapter Five

#### Enter Dean’s Emotions, Set Left

It was a couple rehearsals later and I still had yet to figure out what the hell was going on in my head. But then something happened and that's when I knew I was in for it; when I first heard Castiel sing. He caught me so off guard with "Suddenly Seymour" that it nearly ruined the perfect line I was painting, and I froze for a good minute just listening before Charlie nudged me and gave me a look.

“Dean,” she hissed at me, “stop making doe eyes at the kid and paint. Or do something about it.” Charlie turned back without waiting for a reply, and I stared after her.

 _Pardon? I’m not making ‘doe eyes’ at him,_ I wanted to say back, but I kept quiet when I heard Castiel’s voice again.

The cast had begun doing singing as well as lines on stage, so I was graced by the notes of the piano and of talented college students. But when Castiel took the stage for “Suddenly Seymour”, I blanched. Castiel’s voice was so light and sort of delicate—like I’d expected anything else from him, knowing how soft-spoken he was on the daily.

But this was different. It didn’t matter that he was singing to Meg, or that her voice interceded his occasionally, I was just mesmerised by Castiel’s voice.

"You don’t need no makeup, don't have to pretend..." At that line, Castiel glanced in my direction, where I was staring blatantly, still stunned by how well he could sing.

I blushed—I’m sure as hell I did—and I snapped my mouth shut, gripping my paintbrush tightly between two fingers. _Holy shit,_ I thought, _does he know what I think he knows? No, he can’t. …Can he?_ My thoughts were frantic and I quickly looked away and went back to my painting, trying to put the thought out of my head.

Two strokes and I stopped again, a frown on my face. He couldn’t know what I thought he did; I didn’t even know what I thought I did. I wasn’t gay. I didn’t have a crush on my best friend. Castiel wasn’t gay either. As far as I knew. No assumptions, remember? And even if he was, _I didn’t have a crush on my best friend._

Meg’s singing cut off my thought with, “Learn how to be more, the girl that’s inside me,” and Castiel’s simultaneous reply, “The guy that’s inside you.”

Meg didn’t continue and the piano stopped. “Did you just say guy?" I heard Meg say after the last line. My thoughts backtracked. Yeah, he had. I glanced up, trying to make it inconspicuous, and watched them.

Castiel shook his head and smiled. Fake. "No, of course not."

I slid back underneath the stairs after glancing around to see that everyone else was also silent and watching the pair. If I hadn't been standing underneath the stairs painting the side, I wouldn't have heard Meg whisper to Castiel, "Look, Clarence. We all know you're gay here, but you need to keep it in-character, hm?"

 _So that’s it then, it’s confirmed._ I thought. But no, it wasn’t. The words didn’t come from Castiel’s lips. Cas’ lips… stoppit. What the hell, brain? And since when did he become Cas in my head? But as I listened, Castiel didn’t refute it. But he also didn’t concur with what Meg stated.

I just kept my head down and painted my friggin’ line as Charlie told me to.

But I had to glance up as Meg and Castiel did their kiss scene. I just _had_ to. It was harsh and messy—like it was supposed to be—and after they parted, Meg dropped Castiel and the scene broke, and Castiel's hair was even nappier than before. A surge of jealousy ran through my veins and I shook it off quickly.

_Seriously, what the hell? If Bobby or Sammy knew that I’m thinking about my best friend like this… it would be disastrous. Stop, brain._

I went back to my painting quickly and basically ignored the rest of practice, and accidentally told Castiel to just go home today instead of staying to help me clean up. “I’ve got Charlie today, it’s fine,” I had said to him, maybe a little shortly. I just needed to figure out my thoughts. And I needed to talk to Sam—no, I couldn’t talk to Sam about it. I’d talk to Charlie.

It only went downhill from there. He consumed my every thought and I was trying to find excuses to see him, talk to him. So when Castiel Novak turned up on my doorstep at 3am on a Tuesday night—Wednesday morning—whatever—I didn't turn him away. The look on Castiel's face made me move from the doorway and hit the pause button on my classic rock. I had been cooking, an apron tied around my waist, but it didn't matter when Castiel looked like he did: disheveled hair more disheveled than usual— _and wet, it must be raining_ —tearstains on his face, red, watery eyes, with tears threatening to overflow again.

“Cas,” I breathed out, and stepped aside to allow him entrance. I didn’t think about how I’d just called him Cas. I didn’t think about how Castiel got my address. I didn’t panic about being caught in an apron with flour on my face. I just thought about how Cas looked, miserable and trembling in my entryway.

And enter Cas did. He came right in and plopped down on my couch. He didn’t say a word. He just sat and dripped and shivered.

It seemed an eternity before he said, hushed, “Dean,” which snapped me into action. I pulled off my apron while making my way to the small laundry room to find a towel.

When I returned, Castiel was sitting with his face in his hands, hunched over himself. I quickly knelt in front of him and gently toweled off Cas’ hair, murmuring, “Cas, what happened?”

“I got in a fight,” Cas said haltingly, “with Zachariah, which led to Mother being involved…”

I pulled the towel up and held it on Cas’ head. I got the overwhelming urge to just— _stop._ I was about to ask about what, when a phone started chiming nearby. I glanced around and Castiel mumbled, “It’s mine.”

And when he made no move to grab it, I said, “Well aren’t’cha gonna answer it?”

Castiel shook his head and soon the phone shut off.

I stared at Castiel, my hands still in the towel on his head, and started, “Cas”—

A look crossed Castiel’s face as I spoke and it cut me off. “Don’t, Dean.” Cas pulled away from my hands and I let them drop into my lap, damp towel on my thighs.

“Castiel, then”—

“No, Dean, Cas is… is good. No one’s ever called me Cas before. Just… don’t ask, Dean, okay?” Cas’ hesitance—I’d like to say, though it didn’t—threw me off. The kid was always fucking hesitant.

I nodded. “Alright, Cas.” Then _my_ phone started going off.

“Ignore it.” Castiel snapped, but as I watched, his shoulders slumped in defeat and his jaw worked to keep tears from overflowing again. “Please…”

So I reached into my pocket and switched my phone off. I stood and tossed the towel in the general direction of the laundry room and went into mine to get a dry shirt for Cas to wear. Coming back out, he was shivering and staring blankly at the floor.

“Okay, Cas, let’s get you dry and warm.” It seemed easier to do something productive rather than having him wallow in whatever the hell it was. But he didn’t move, so I crouched in front of him and said softly, “Cas, you don’t have to tell me anything, but I just… don’t want you to catch a cold,” I finished lamely.

Whatever. It was bad enough that I was thinking about Cas without a shirt on, in my apartment, but he really _would_ get a cold.

After Cas shucked his shirt and pulled on my—slightly larger—own over his head, my timer went off. The sudden sharp noise cutting through the silence jarred me and I stood, looking into the kitchen. “I made pie,” I said, suddenly feeling sheepish.

A faint, humoured smile graced Cas’ lips— _not again with the lips_ —and he said softly, “At three in the morning?”

I shrugged and went into the kitchen, unable to face him. “When I can’t sleep, I bake…” I pulled the pie out of the oven and set it on the counter. “Besides, maybe it was good. Pie always makes you feel better.” I smiled at Cas over my shoulder and found he was a lot closer than I thought he was. “Fuck—Cas, I told you to stop doing that.”

Castiel shrugged, hands in his pockets. “Sorry, it’s not like I mean to.”

So we stood, in silence, waiting for the pie to cool enough to cut it. I cleared my throat after a minute, uncomfortable under Cas’ stare—even if it _was_ watery and red—and said, “It’s my mother’s recipe,” and turned to cut the pie.

I motioned for Castiel to sit down and placed a fat slice of pie in front of him, along with a fork. We ate in silence as well, but it was more of a companionable silence. I could tell that Cas didn’t want to talk about what had happened, so I didn’t push him.

I let Cas sleep on my couch—“What else am I supposed to do?” I had asked, “You’re my friend. Of course you can stay.”—and we said goodnight.

Safe in my room, I opened my laptop and sent a chat to Charlie, knowing she’d be online rather than check her phone.

**Dean Winchester is now online (3:43am)**  
 **Charlie Bradbury is idle for 20 minutes**

**Dean Winchester: charlie, u up?**  
 **Charlie Bradbury: Yeah, what’s up?**  
 **DW: so cas is in my apt right now**  
 **CB: I /so/ knew it! What are you doing talking to me?**  
 **DW: not like that charlie. he ran away apparently what do i do?**  
 **CB: What would you do if it was me, Dean?**  
 **DW: let u stay over, make u talk to me about it.**  
 **DW: but he wont talk**  
 **CB: Then just give him the couch and go to bed. Stop overthinking it.**  
 **DW: …**  
 **DW: yeah ur right**  
 **DW: thanks**  
 **CB: You /so/ have a crush on him. Big time.**  
 **DW: goodnite charlie**  
 **Dean Winchester is now offline (3:56am)**

Fuck. That didn’t help. And it didn’t help that she was right. _I have a big gay crush on my best friend._


	6. Exit Castiel Novak, Off Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo so I've had this written for a while but I just haven't uploaded like I should have been. Oops. Oh well, I'll get back on track since I have almost all the rest finished.

### Chapter Six

#### Exit Castiel Novak, Off Right

The next morning, I woke overheated, the source of all of it against my side. I cracked an eye and was faced with a mess of dark hair. “What the hell,” I mumbled, trying to recall the night before. Cas had come over, upset, and I let him sleep on the couch. How did he get into my bed, though? _And why am I cuddling him?_ I slid away from the sleeping Castiel and reached for my phone.

Turning it on, I saw that it was just after six in the morning. And a second later, a mess of text messages and missed calls turned up on my screen. All were from a number I didn’t recognise, but after reading one, I knew it was Gabriel.

(785) 794-3367 at 3:50am: Deano, is Castiel with you?  
(785) 794-3367 at 4:16am: Dean, it’s Gabriel. I’m worried about Castiel.  
(785) 794-3367 at 4:48am: Dean, answer your phone. Castiel hasn’t come home.  
(785) 794-3367 at 5:34am: Dean please… let me know if he’s with you.

I flicked through them before turning to my voicemail.

_“Hey Deano, it’s Gabriel. It’s about four thirty here and… Castiel ran again and I need to know if he’s with you. Our mother is beside herself with worry and…”_ There was a pause for a good five seconds before a sigh and then, _“I’m not mad. I’m worried. Dean, call me when you get this. Please.”_

The others were a similar tone, and my stomach did a sick turn. Immediately I called back and on the third ring, Gabriel picked up.

_“Dean! Finally. Is he with you? Do you have Castiel?”_ Gabriel sounded like he hadn’t slept, and I felt awful.

“Yeah,” I finally answered, looking down at Cas in my bed. “Cas is here. He uh, asked me not to answer my phone, so…” I paused before asking the question I dreaded: “What’s going on, Gabriel?”

There was an exhale of relief on the other line. _“Oh thank God he’s safe this time. I thought… fuck I was so worried.”_ This was unusual for Gabriel; he sounded terrified. And irritated. Of course, I’d only spoken to him under professional circumstances.

“Uh, yeah. He, he’s fine, Gabriel. Exhausted, but fine.” I licked my lips and tried not to ask again.

_“Good, good. He and our brother got into a fight and Mother got involved”_ —that much I had heard from Cas— _“and it got worse than it usually does. I wasn’t home, which explains partially why he split, but he did. Snuck out his window”_ —I made a mental note to make sure Cas wasn’t injured later— _“and just disappeared. Just like last time. I’m so glad he went to your place, Deano. You’re his best friend.”_

“I know. I can’t be a very good friend if he won’t tell me anything, though,” I muttered bitterly, sitting beside Cas and absently carding my fingers through his hair.

A sigh from Gabriel. _“Castiel is fragile, Dean. You need to”_ —another sigh— _“just be careful, alright? Don’t hurt my baby brother. You two are good for each other, just don’t… don’t make me regret that. He trusts you, and therefore so do I.”_

I paused for a long moment. “Okay…” I was even more confused, but just let it go. Gabriel couldn’t know of my growing… affection, to Cas, could he? “I’ll try to get him to come home later, alright?”

_“Yeah, yeah that’s good. Thank you.”_

I could tell Cas was waking beside me so I quickly said goodbye and set my phone in my lap, other hand still in Castiel’s hair. “Wakey wakey, Cas,” I said softly, standing to shower.

When I returned in my pyjama pants, toweling my hair, Cas was sitting up and staring down at his phone. “Gabe called me four times and sent me eleven text messages,” he said, not looking up.

“Yeah, well he called me three times and sent four texts.” I paused and sighed. “I had to call him back, Cas. To let him know that you’re okay.”

Cas nodded. “I know. Thank you, Dean.” He looked up at me—slowly, I could see his eyes rake up my bare chest and never felt so scrutinised—“You’re a good friend.”

I nodded and thought about what that meant. _Yeah, I’m a good friend. If ‘friend’ means I don’t get to know anything about you and means you sleep in my bed—cuddled to me—and means I stare at you way too much and means I take advantage of our friendship for my selfish curious means, then yeah, I’m a great friend._ I smiled faintly at Cas and replied, “Of course, Cas,” and pulled on a shirt to start breakfast.

“Feel free to shower if you want,” I called from the kitchen, pulling out the skillet for eggs.

After breakfast, we settled on the couch with pie. Cas had never seen _Star Wars,_ so I set to correct that, starting with the fourth, warning him that if he was asked, he watched them from number one. Charlie would understand why, but no one else would.

I ignored the fact that I had classes and didn’t tell Cas that. I just asked him if he had any, and he replied with a quiet “no” and that was that. I didn’t go to any of my classes. Not when Castiel needed me.

Somewhere between _The Empire Strikes Back_ and _Return of the Jedi,_ Cas fell asleep, halfway sideways beside me. He drifted to my shoulder and I shifted so he’d be more comfortable, sliding my arm so that we were sort of laying, Castiel’s head on my chest.

I napped as well, and when I woke up, the warmth that was on my side was cold, Cas was gone, and a note was on my kitchen table.

_Dean,_  
 _Thank you for last night and thank you for the pie and breakfast, as well as a good night’s sleep. I’ll get out of your way and go home so you don’t have to skip any more classes. Don’t worry about me, alright?_

_Castiel_

_P.S. You talk in your sleep._

So the bastard did know that I skipped classes. I smiled a little and shook my head, but then saw the post note. I started panicking. What do I say in my sleep? Shit, did I say something about Cas? But no, he’d’ve said something, wouldn’t he? Yeah. But anyway, the guy didn’t know what best friends did for each other.

I’d never had a best friend quite like Castiel, though. It had been a while since _I’d_ had a good friend; maybe _I_ was the one who didn’t know how to treat a friend.

One thing was for certain though: something in Cas’ past—present, whatever—really messed him up, and I was determined to figure it out.

That and the fact that I was in deep for my best friend, Castiel Novak. Fuck.  



	7. Enter Gabriel Novak, Director and Counsellor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a loooooong time since I've uploaded. It's written, just I'm too lazy to html it and upload it. It'll be done soon as I can get around to it!

## Chapter Seven

### Enter Gabriel Novak, Director and Counsellor

A few days later, and Cas wasn’t at practice. I thought maybe… and I hadn’t heard from him either. So after practice, as I was cleaning up, I heard footsteps approach. I stood and wiped my paint-stained hands on my jeans.

I cleared my throat when he didn’t speak. “So, where’s Cas today?”

Gabriel cleared his throat as well, looking uncomfortable, and muttered, “Castiel has holed himself up in his room. And he refuses to come down. Mother told him that he wasn’t allowed back at university and he flipped his shit. I talked to her and she redacted it, but he doesn’t believe her.”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe your family should be a little nicer to him, huh?” I snapped, tired and a little bit peeved that I hadn’t gotten to see Cas. _What the actual fuck,_ I thought, hitting myself internally, _Why would that even affect my feelings?_

Gabriel looked almost reluctant to say, “He yelled a bunch of shit before he slammed his door shut, one of it being ‘if I can’t see Dean anymore, then why even bother leaving my room’.” Gabriel sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Deano, I just need y’t’come and talk to him. Please. I don’t think he’s gonna leave otherwise. Just think about Castiel.”

I shook my head, lips pursing together. That was a low blow, and I didn’t even want to _think_ about what he claimed Cas said. “Yeah, yeah, alright. I’ll try.”  
-  
When I parked in the drive half an hour later, I looked up at the house and whistled. It was larger than I expected, perfectly manicured lawn, immaculately white. I shook my head. _Don’t_ know _what I was expecting._ So I just took a deep breath and walked up to the front door.

Before I could knock, the door opened and a woman was standing in the foyer. “Gabriel said you would be here,” she said, smiling pleasantly.

_So that’s where Cas perfected his fake smile,_ I thought bitterly, plastering on a smile of my own. “Hello, Mrs. Novak, I’m Dean Winchester,” I said, holding out my hand to shake hers. My one question was if she heard what Castiel said about me, but to hell if I was going to ask her.

“Naomi, please. Mrs. Novak sounds stuffy.”

So she knew how to charm. I could do that too. My smile widened. “As you please, Naomi.” I paused and then added, “Gabriel has asked me to talk to Cas—tiel.” I added the end of his name quickly, rubbing the back of my neck to cover my discomfort.

Mrs. Novak—no, Naomi—nodded, her expression never changing. “He said you would be here. Castiel’s room is upstairs.” She paused. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

So I made my way up the stairs after toeing off my shoes. I didn’t know why, but revealing Cas’ nickname to his mother seemed weird and it sent a chilled feeling down my spine. Something told me that she wouldn’t appreciate how close I was with her son. Maybe it was the plethora of religious relics on the walls and on small tables.

But Naomi was right when she said I would recognise Castiel’s door. It was that chalkboard paint, black and matte, a contrast to the white-washed walls. There was writing on it, some of it I recognised as Cas’ hand, some of it I assumed was his mother’s, which said things like “clean your floor, Castiel!” and “here’s something to think about: God saves those who ask it”. _What the hell is this,_ I thought. There were more notes, too, probably from Gabriel: “Castiel, pages 45-56 for next week”.

I knocked softly and said, “Cas, it’s Dean. Can I come in?”

No one answered, but when I raised my hand to knock again, the door opened a crack. I took that as a ‘yes’ and stepped in.

As I looked around, Naomi’s note on Cas’ door still applied. It was messy, and the antique-looking wardrobe was open and clothes and jumpers were hanging out. There was a small lamp on, also antique, and it was the only source of light in the room, since the curtains were drawn. From what I could see of the walls, there were posters of musicals and plays plastered everywhere. A desk with a laptop on it was in the far corner, top cluttered with what looked like mugs, and the whole room smelled like coffee. _Does Cas drink coffee…?_ I thought, trying to remember if he’d mentioned it before.

“Cas?” I said softly. A hush was over the whole room and I closed the door softly, not wanting Cas’ mother to listen in.

There was movement on the bed, a queen size with light coloured sheets. I walked over to it, feet padding on hardwood and then a rug. I sat beside the lump and sighed; I was never good at talking to people. “Look, Cas,” I started, but faltered.

Cas moved, his head peering out of the comforter. “Dean. You do not understand my family. I’m not going back to university this semester. Possibly not at all.”

“Heard you weren’t gonna come out if you couldn’t see me,” I said instead, grinning a little, hoping that Cas might talk to me a little more freely. When Castiel didn’t return my smile, I said, “Gabriel told me that your mother took back what she said.”

“Yeah, well, not like I believe anything that she says to me.” Cas scooted up in bed and met my gaze. With the way he looked—disheveled hair, bleary eyes, sleepy—it made me want to lean in and— _Jesus Christ, Dean. Shut that the fuck down._

“The… the theatre production needs you there. You know you can’t just let Azazel win, right?” I wanted to add, _I need you there,_ but I didn’t. But, god if I wanted to.

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t care all that much, Dean.”

My eyes closed for a moment. I needed to get him to come back, so I said haltingly, “I’d… uh, miss you, man. If you never left your room.” I blushed, and was mighty glad for the low lighting.

Cas looked at me for a moment, blue eyes narrowed, then slowly nodded. “Yes, I’d miss you too, Dean. I suppose I’ll come back. But, only under one condition.”

Oh shit. “What’s that?” I said slowly, an uneasy feeling growing in my gut.

Cas pulled back the covers, a silent invitation. “You look like you need some sleep,” he said softly.

I hesitated a moment, looking around the room before settling my eyes on the closed door. After deciding, _why the hell not,_ I pulled off my jacket and slid down next to Cas.

“You’ve uh… got a nice room here,” I said. Awkward, was what I was thinking. “So you’re a, uh, caffeine junkie, huh?” No response. _Okay, let’s try that again._ “Lots of musicals on your walls.” I had noticed the _Cats_ poster and the _Phantom of the Opera_ one hanging above the bed, as well as the _Little Shop of Horrors_ poster front and centre. “No plays?”

Cas shrugged and responded sleepily, “My preference is musicals.”

I could tell that he was starting to fall asleep, so I said softly, “If you’re not at practice tomorrow I’m coming back and dragging you there.” Okay, so it was more of a threat, but someone had to do it.

“Mmmhm… rehearsal, Dean, not practice,” Castiel mumbled back, shifting towards me. Cas’ fingers reached and grasped a hold of my sleeve.

I held my breath as Cas’ breathing evened out as he fell asleep. I waited a few more minutes to be sure, then carefully slipped from beneath the covers. I looked down at Castiel’s sleeping face and stroked my fingers through his hair before grabbing my jacket and getting the hell out of dodge.

I shoved my shoes back on and fled to my car, freaked out beyond belief. Sitting in Baby, I shot a quick text to Gabriel: **ur welcome.**

I drove home, blaring Metallica, and sat at my kitchen table for a long time.

I wanted a lot of things. I wanted to get Sam into university. I wanted my parents to still be present, if only for Sam. I wanted Bobby to stop drinking so much. I wanted Charlie to grow a pair and ask out Gilda. I wanted my best friend, possibly in a way that I never thought about before. I wanted to not be afraid of what was happening in my own head. I wanted Cas to understand that I was scared, absolutely _terrified_ , of what was going on.


	8. Enter Sam Winchester, a Shoulder to Cry On

## Chapter Eight

### Enter Sam Winchester, a Shoulder to Cry On

Cas did return to rehearsals the next day. He returned to classes, too; I’d asked him, unabashedly. Azazel kept harassing him, and I kept clenching my jaw trying to keep from breaking his.

Gabriel didn’t notice it, of course. Not that he wasn’t paying attention; I was just watching closer. I worried for Cas. Azazel was vicious, and Crowley even worse.

But shit really hit the fan, so to say, after rehearsal, as it always did. Castiel and Azazel had been glaring at each other continuously throughout rehearsal, and I was afraid I’d have to intervene a couple of times. _Jesus,_ I thought, _how can Gabriel not notice this?_

But we all got through it, and Azazel left as soon as Gabriel called wraps. Cas made his way over to me and said, “Shouldn’t you and Charlie be finished by now?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, we’re just doing the finishing touches now.” I was mostly just biding my time by doing minimal things to keep myself there. I stopped for a moment. Once we were done with the set, what would happen? Would Cas and I just stop talking to each other? But I shut down that thought in a second. Of course we wouldn’t. _We’re best friends._

But I realised Cas was sitting and staring at me, and that I’d been quiet for some time. The look that Castiel was giving me was unnerving, not unlike many of the other glances he shot at me. I cleared my throat and said, "Dude, you gotta chill out. Your eyes can get really intense.” Cas’ eyes softened and he looked down. But my mouth wouldn’t stop moving. “Don't your other friends get freaked out?" Cas looked at me again, bewilderment crossing his face, but he didn't say anything. "Dammit, my foot-in-mouth disease got me again." I cringed at how juvenile and excusatory that sounded and covered it with a quick smile. _Fake fake fake,_ my mind chanted.

Quietly, Cas replied, "I don't have any other friends…"

"What about Meg?" I tried to compensate with a wink, but I ended up feeling sick about it. I didn't want to hear if he had the hots for fucking Meg Masters. The jealousy was completely unwanted and just needed to go the fuck away. _It’s not like we’re together,_ I thought.

Castiel blushed. "Dean…. What if I told you something…"

There was a hesitance then, and my stomach flipped. Was I jealous of Meg? No way. It didn't matter to me that she was overly touchy on Cas, or that she was always talking to him when he wasn't talking to me. It just didn't matter. It didn't. All I had to do was keep telling myself that. "….Yeah?" I said softly, part of me not wanting to know the answer.

"I'm not into… into Meg, Dean." There was another pause, and I almost told him to spit it out, but he continued, his voice rough and grating, "I'm gay."

I didn't say anything for a long time. I had had my suspicions; the way that Castiel dressed, the way he used his hands, his overall demeanour, but I didn't want to say anything or assume. Generalisations, yanno?

“I uh… oh. Yeah, okay.” I forced a grin and thought about what that meant. Maybe I could get Cas to fool around with me? _Gays just have flings, right? They don’t do relationships. They just fuck._ My stomach felt sick again. I couldn’t believe I just thought about that of my best friend. I cared about Cas’ feelings, at least to that point. I wouldn’t do that to him. _“Don’t hurt my baby brother.”_ Gabriel’s voice cut into my thoughts. _So that’s what he meant._ “I couldn’t… hardly tell,” I coughed out, knowing my face was reddening.

Castiel shook his head and thankfully ignored my uncomfortableness. "How could you not tell, Dean? The guys call me a faggot. I'm in the theatre department." Cas glanced down at himself. "And just the way I dress…"

I needed to redeem this. I wasn’t gonna lose a friend just ‘cuz of who he liked. Just ‘cuz I was an idiot and didn’t know what to say. “Cas… I didn't want to assume something. And those guys are assholes. You're still my best friend, man."

I leaned over and cuffed him gently on the back of the head, grinning affectionately. At least what I thought was affectionately. I was freaking out, of course. How else was I supposed to react? My hand lingered a bit too long against Cas’ head and neck and I stood hurriedly.

“Grab those paint cans for me?” I tried my hardest to restore some normality to the situation, no matter how awkward I felt.

Cas nodded and picked up the paint cans silently. “You’re my best friend too, Dean,” he said after a moment.

When I looked at him again, he hadn’t moved, and he was staring at me with that weird look again. The one that seemed to see all of my secrets and into my soul. I suppose I was starting to get used to it. I needed to get out of there. I needed to call Sam. Or Charlie. Or both.

So when I finally got home, I collapsed in the kitchen and phoned Sam.

I regretted it the moment he picked up. _“Hello?”_

I cleared my throat and grated out, “Hey Sammy.”

There was a sigh from the other side. _“Dean… what’s wrong this time?”_

I frowned. “This time? Jesus, Sam, you make it seem like I come crying to you with every little scrape. From what I remember, that’s you.”

_“Dean, stop beating around the bush and just tell me what’s going on.”_ I could practically see the bitchface from here.

“Sam…”I sighed, rubbing a hand down my face. “Why did I call you?”

_“I don’t know, Dean. You called me. So talk.”_

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. Okay, okay. I didn’t, not really. But I just wanted to talk it out with someone, hopefully someone who wouldn’t care. But I couldn’t bring myself to say it. “I’m doing the set for the play, like usual, yeah?” I paused, licking my lips. “I met Cas there… and we’re friends and… yeah.”

What the hell ever. I said something, didn’t I?

Sam was silent for a moment, and I could hear him breathing, thinking. _“So… what I’m getting is, you like him.”_

“What!” I said instantly, feeling incredibly stupid for calling him. “No, no nono, Sammy. Not what you’re getting at all. I’m just…”I trailed off, not wanting to finish what I was going to say, and finished with, “gonna go make a pie. Thanks Samantha. Bye.”

I could hear Sam’s protests as I pulled my phone away and hung up. It wasn’t like he said anything I didn’t already know. I just didn’t want to think that I liked my best friend like that.

So you know what I did? I made pie.


	9. Chapter 9: The Altercation and the Crossover

Chapter Nine

The Altercation and the Crossover

 

“I seriously don’t know why that damn faggot is still trying to do this musical. It’s so obvious that Gabriel isn’t going to let him do it now.”

 

They were the first words I heard as I walked into the theatre. “Excuse me?” I muttered, taking off my hat and stomping the snow from my boots. Kansas had had a couple freak snowstorms early on in November, which _sucked_.

 

But anyway. It must’ve been Azazel, from the idiocy of his words. I stood silent, waiting for him to say something else. _Gabriel must not be here yet, or he wouldn’t even say anything._

 

“I mean, seriously, Castiel hasn’t been at KU for as long as me. It’s obvious that I’m a better actor than that homo.”

 

Slowly I made my way to the front of the stage, where Azazel was surrounded by other people, though I didn’t see Crowley in the mix. That made it easier.

 

People sidestepped to allow me by and I cleared my throat, causing Azazel to turn and face me. He grinned slowly and said, “Oh lookie here, Deadbeat Dean. You’re a faggot now too, though, aren’t you?”

 

I didn’t think, just reacted. I swung out and heard the impact as my fist met Azazel’s cheek and hot anger flowed through my veins. “You shut the fuck up about Castiel and me, Azazel. You got that?” I turned and looked at every single one of the people staring at us, Azazel kneeling on the ground, his breaths heaving. “And if I hear anyone else talk about it, I’ll do worse than your _friend_ here,” I snarled.

 

I turned and stalked back out, needing some cold air to calm myself, and nearly ran into Gabriel and Cas.

 

“Whoah there, Deano. You looked pissed. What’s goin’ on in there?” Gabriel held up a hand to stop me, but I shook my head quickly, clenching my fist and trying not to wince.

 

“I’ll be in in a few minutes.” I muttered, pushing past and walking out into the parking lot.

 

I could hear the crunch of snow and gravel behind me and knew it was Castiel. “Was it Azazel or Crowley?” he asked, stopping in front of me and lifting my hand.

 

I sighed, calming almost immediately at his touch. “Azazel,” I murmured, staring down as Cas caressed my hand. “Hurts a bit…” My shoulders sagged and I thought, _I’ve never been so utterly comfortable around someone before._

 

I blurted out, not thinking, “Who are you? Cas, what have you done to me?" I couldn't believe that The fucking Who came into my head at that exact moment.

 

Castiel shook his head and murmured, “I could say the same for you.” He looked from my hand and gave me one of his stares that made me feel utterly exposed.

 

We stood there for a few minutes, neither of us saying anything, until I said softly, “Just friends don’t act like this, Cas.” I swallowed, suddenly nervous, and I nearly pulled my hand from Cas’.

 

Cas’ look turned into a glare, though I could tell that it was a bluff, and he said, “I know that. You think I don’t know how to act around a friend, but I do.”

 

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but Cas cut me off. “Maybe I just thought that you’d get that maybe, just _maybe,_ I wanted to be more than ‘just friends’?” He dropped my hand to air quote and I immediately missed the warmth.

 

I stared. At his hands, still in the air. At his hair. At the ground. At his eyes. At his lips. I only got out, “I” before Cas leaned in and kissed me.

 

I didn’t fight back. I’d been thinking about it for months, nearly since we met. It was short and sweet; too short for my tastes. When we parted, my fingers wrapped around Cas’ hip and neck and I pulled him back to me, closing the distance between us again. My fingers wrapped and smoothed through Cas’ hair and tugged at the short strands at the nape of his neck.

 

It was still sweet, but when we parted we were both breathing a little heavier, white puffs of air between our faces. “I want to be more than just friends too,” I murmured, my fingers gripping into Cas’ hip.

 

Castiel nodded faintly and his nose brushed mine, a jolt of cold. “You’re not wearing a coat,” he said, before Gabriel called,

 

“Castiel! Dean! Quit your mackin’ and get inside!”

 

I blushed and stepped away from Cas, shoving my hands in my pockets. Cas sheepishly met my gaze and we both started laughing. I slung my arm around Cas’ shoulders and we went back in.

 

And I tried to push the feeling of someone watching us from my mind. _It was probably just Gabriel, after all,_ I thought.

 

Crowley came in after us by a few minutes, didn’t meet my gaze, and when Azazel stumbled over to him, blood still dried on his face, Crowley glanced at me with a look that chilled me to the bone.


	10. Chapter 10: Enter Naomi Novak, House Centre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long i haven't even finished uploading this. life got in the way. i'm trash. enjoy. <3

Chapter Ten

Enter Naomi Novak, House Centre

 

We didn't kiss again after the first one. We were careful around each other, like we wanted contact but thought everyone would notice our change.

 

But it was when we were sitting in my apartment eating a late supper when we had the conversation.

 

"Cas, I don't... uh, I mean, you and me..." I trailed off, not knowing what to say. "I like you, man, I do,"

 

Castiel shook his head and just smiled lightly at me. "You're not out, Dean. You're not quite comfortable with it yet." He nodded, confirming his assumption by the look I gave him. Cas reached across the table and twirled his fingers with mine. "It's okay. We'll take it slowly; tell who you want, when you want."

 

I exhaled slowly and my body relaxed. "Thank you," I said softly, my voice cracking faintly. I still wasn't convinced I was gay. I just wasn't.

 

Cas smiled again. "Of course," he said, before checking his watch. "Shit, I told my mother I'd be home before nine. It's almost ten thirty!"

 

My lips pressed together and I stood. I didn't like Naomi. I didn't like how she treated Cas. But I wasn't gonna say shit to her about it, either, nor was I gonna mention it to Cas. I just grabbed my coat and tossed Castiel his and drove him home.

 

And our lives went on as they had before, for the most part. Cas stayed after rehearsals and helped me clean up, I was still awing over how perfect his voice was, and Charlie was still rolling her eyes at my "crush". But what I didn't tell her was that we were dating. Or, kind of dating. I wasn't ready to, and Cas was okay with that. And I was incredibly grateful for him.

 

It was nearly a week later that we slipped up. It was after rehearsal and Cas insisted that I let him walk home that day. We'd gotten into the habit of leaving together, but Cas said, "I'm just getting a weird feeling today and I think it's just safer."

 

I must've looked nervous, because Castiel leaned in, curling his fingers against the nape of my neck, and kissed me softly. "Don't worry, it's not you," he murmured. Cas kissed me once more and then turned and left, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder.

 

"Okay, bye Cas," I called after him, shaking my head. My lips still tingled from the kiss and tasted like Cas, and I couldn't keep the smile off of my face. I whistled Carry On Wayward Son as I cleaned up, until I noticed that someone was sitting in the rear of the theatre.

 

"Can I help you?" I called, dread filling my stomach. _Were they there the whole time?_ I thought, _What if they saw Cas and I…_ I shut down that thought, wiping my suddenly sweating palms on my thighs. _It's fine. Just pretend like nothing's wrong._

 

My entire thought process shut down when I saw who it was, though. Naomi. I swallowed and forced out a strangled, "Hi Mrs. Novak," as I tidied up to keep my hands busy.

 

"Yes, hello, Dean. It's good to see you." She sounded insincere, and a chill ran down my spine. "I see that you and Castiel have..." she waved her fingers in the air, and I froze. “...become quite good friends."

 

"I, uh... yeah, we have," I mumbled back, feeling my face redden. _What the hell's she gonna do?_ I thought frantically. I could stand up for Cas to Azazel, but I couldn't defend myself to his own mother.

 

"I cannot say that I am too pleased about that little fact, Dean," Naomi said softly, and I could practically feel the ice dripping from her words. Her lips quirked up, as though she knew something that I didn’t. “Do you think that God would approve of your abomination?”

 

I swallowed. “I uh, I’m not really religious, Mrs. Novak,” I stuttered, feeling my cheeks heat up.

 

Naomi Novak’s lips pressed into another smile, looking victorious. I stood frozen as she spoke, seemingly unable to move. "Castiel is set for a very prestigious future ahead of him, as you know, I'm sure, and I have only allowed him to return to this school because of the lift it will give him in life and because Gabriel can watch over him."

 

When I still didn't speak, Naomi continued. "So as you can probably guess―although maybe someone of your intelligence can't―that you do not fit into Castiel's future. A high school dropout with his GED, going nowhere? I cannot allow you to muck up my plans for Castiel. You know that you don't fit in his future, Dean." Naomi smiled placidly at me, mockingly, daring me to speak.

 

“And besides, you? As a fag? You’re too handsome, Dean,” Naomi purred, “find yourself a pretty girl and stop mucking up my baby boy.”

 

And yet I could do nothing but stare. I knew she was right. I just, thought that Cas and I could remain friends, maybe more, now. But no, she was right. I wasn't right for Cas, no matter how much I did or didn't want to be. No matter how hard I tried. No matter what I did, I'd never be good enough for Cas. Never be good enough to get out of Kansas, even. I could only focus on Sam, and what the hell was I doing messing around with Cas? I was done with the set; I needed to get a job. But still I hung around for Cas, to be near him.

 

But what about what Naomi said? Wasn’t Cas already gay before we started this? Or… _did Cas tell me he’s gay just to get me?_ I thought. _And if that’s true, then I need to stop this before we both end up spiraling out of control._

 

"You're right," I sighed, raking my fingers through my hair, "You're right." There wasn't much else I could say, really.

 

"Then you will end your..." Naomi waved her fingers in the air lightly, a disgusted look on her face. "...fling, with Castiel and let him go. Dean, I can tell that you are insecure about all of this and would rather not deal with the consequences if this continues.” She paused and folded her hands in front of her. “What do you think will happen to Castiel if word of your… affiliation spreads farther than it has already? Think about what that would do to him, Dean.”

 

That was a low blow. _Someone must have told her that I ‘can’t ever do anything for myself’ as Charlie always puts it._ I knew I couldn’t hurt Cas though. It was… the right thing to do.

 

I nodded numbly, licking my lips in a futile attempt to ground myself. I could still faintly taste Cas on them. “I, uh…” I did a hard swallow, feeling like I was gonna be sick. Once in my life I was actually _happy,_ and Naomi had to ruin it for me. “Y-yes.”

 

Once she had my answer, Naomi Novak turned on her heel and strode out, leaving me standing in the middle of the stage. I had to make a run for home in the cold before I actually _did_ throw up.


	11. Chapter 11: Enter the Disagreement

Chapter Eleven

Enter the Disagreement

 

It was my turn to not go to practice. Rehearsal. Whatever. I was sulking. I was pouting. I was hating myself. I had called Sam, and he told me to “stop being such a child” and fuck Naomi. I had called Charlie, but there was nothing she could say except “bake a pie”, because I wouldn’t tell her shit. Not like I’d told Sam any more.

 

I was on my third pie and the whole kitchen smelled like cherries. I had “Cherry Pie” playing in the back on my iPod, humming and dancing along, trying to make myself feel better, when I heard the door open.

 

I tried to ignore it, until I heard a soft, “Dean,” grow louder until it was in the kitchen.

 

I closed my eyes, leant over to put a pie in the oven. Slowly, I straightened up, grimacing. “Hey Cas,” I said while turning to face him. I knew I looked like hell: ratty AC/DC tshirt, a pair of boxer shorts, hair unkempt, face red from scrubbing it in aggravation.

 

“You weren’t at rehearsal, so I thought I’d stop by…” Cas said slowly, crossing his arms and shuffling his feet. “But maybe I was wrong?”

 

“Yeah, you were,” I snapped, still pissed as hell at Naomi and taking it out on Cas. If she wanted me gone, I was gonna hafta break his heart. I knew the kid liked me, and I didn’t want to do that. I liked him too. “You shouldn’t be here, Cas,” I continued with, rubbing my hand down my face and pinching the bridge of my nose.

 

“What? Why weren’t you at rehearsal…? Dean, what did I do?” Cas took a step toward me, looking hurt.

 

_Fuck,_ I thought, _he thinks_ he _did something wrong. When it’s all me._ I shook my head. “I’m not going back to rehearsals, Cas.” I’d made up my mind on the second pie, my heart dropping into my stomach. “I’m not going back to classes.”

 

The look on Cas’ face made me want to hit myself. Or have Cas hit me. “You’re not going to finish junior year? What about graduating?”

 

My anger was on a short fuse, and it’d just blown. I shook my head, tossing my oven mitt onto the ground and leaning my hands on the table. My fingers toyed with the edge of a plate and I slid my hands across the table, making it crash onto the floor. "What's the point of graduating if I'm not even going to go anywhere!" I had my GED. What else did I need?

 

I saw Cas jump out of the corner of my eye and I clenched my fingers against the wooden table. “But, you are. I thought you were going to”—

 

I slid a mug onto the floor where it shattered as well. _I need to scare him off,_ I thought, clenching my jaw. I hated to, but it was what he needed. _What he needs._ “I’m not going anywhere, Cas. You and I both know that.”

 

"Dean, stop throwing things. You must graduate." Castiel was the ever-logical person in my life. But right now, that logic was flawed. I glanced over at him and immediately knew it was a bad idea. His chin was trembling, as were his fists, clenched at his sides.

 

I couldn’t keep a handle on my self-control for much longer.

 

"No!" Another plate crossed the room and crashed with the other dishes I had thrown. "Why do I need to get a degree in fucking anything if I'm just gonna work at Bobby's garage the rest of my life!" I threw a desperate look to Cas and froze. "Cas," I started toward him, making him flinch, "you're going places, Cas, and I'm going nowhere. Stuck in Lawrence Kansas until I retire and die."

 

"Well I'm not going anywhere without you." Cas stood resolute, his lower lip jutting out.

 

I growled in frustration and snapped my jaw together. "Get out!" I roared at him, hating the fact that the look on Cas' face made me want to deflate and huddle him to me. _No,_ I thought, _you don't deserve him. It's better this way._ I pointed to the door. "Get the fuck out of my apartment!"

 

I saw Cas visibly flinch and his breath stuttered. “I thought… that you were different,” he mumbled before practically running for the door.

 

I stood still for a while after Castiel left, in shock, blinking tears down my cheeks. Finally it sunk in that he was gone, gone, _gone_ , and I clenched my fists so hard that I drew blood.

 

I started pacing. I flipped off the oven temperature and pulled out the pie, half baked. “That was stupid,” I said, leaning on my counter and trying to breathe. “Fuck!” I yelled, slamming my palms on the counter, smearing blood on the white surface.

 

I spun quickly and shoved my feet into my shoes. _Shit, fuck, goddamn,_ I thought, _I fucked up, and now I need to fix it. I need to explain that I was different, that I_ am _different, just his fucking mother is throwing a bitch fit._

 

But the moment I got outside, pulling my coat on, something hit me, properly knocking me out.


	12. Chapter 12: Enter the Saviour, Flying Left

Chapter Twelve

Enter the Saviour, Flying Left

 

Slowly, I came to, hearing voices around me. _What the hell hit me?_ I thought, trying to move from the position I was in to see the damage on my head. It throbbed and… someone had … hit me. I faded in and out of consciousness, still trying to wiggle.

 

The voices slowly got louder, and easier to discern.

 

“No, we bury the body height ways so that the grave is littler!”

 

That was… I couldn’t tell. But the next voice I knew all too well. His pompous British accent had always pissed me off.

 

“You mean like he’s standing up. That makes it easier for him to get out, dumbass.”

 

Crowley. Crowley and one of his friends was planning on… burying me?! Panic surged in me and my eyes flew open, immediately falling on a form in front of me, but too far to touch: Cas. He was still wearing one of those damn button-down shirts, and Seymour’s thick-rimmed glasses were cracked and laying off to the side. Cas had been thrown. My thoughts were frantic, repeating. _Cascascascascas. BealivepleaseCasbealive._

 

“Why’s it matter? He’s gonna be dead”― _dead, Cas is gonna be dead fuckfuck_ ―“with one inhalation of dirt anyway. It’ll just be a bit more work to bury him like this, but we’ll be less likely to get caught!”

 

Anger tried to overpower my panic and fear and I struggled harder. Cas. I needed to get to him. But I couldn’t. Tied _. Fuck, fuck. This is so bad. If I can’t get away…_ I didn’t want to think about it. I tried to call out to Cas through the cloth in between my lips. But for what? To run, to warn him? He was unconscious, and from the dull light that Crowley’s flashlight let out, we weren’t near anywhere. Fucking Kansas and its spacious fields. Panic blinded me, and all I could think about was getting Cas out.

“You’re stupid, Azazel.”

 

Azazel. Son of a bitch. It was Azazel. I should’ve known it was him. I had to get free, but I was tied too tightly. I had to wake Cas, get him out.

 

A whine. “Crowleyyyyy… it’s a good idea!” Azazel stomped his feet around like a child.

 

 _Fuck. It’d be so easy to take him out, if only I could get out of this damn rope._ Somehow I had actually had a rational thought. I needed a way out.

 

“No, it’s stupid. Because you’re stupid. Now start digging.”

 

But I couldn’t do anything but stare from my bonds at Cas’ prone form. My eyes were wide, and I hadn’t blinked in half a minute, at least. One second could mean Cas’ death. But I had to, and Crowley’s flashlight faded a few times. Struggling was beyond me by now, but I couldn’t give up. Cas needed me. I could only listen and watch as Crowley and his crony began digging a grave for Cas―and probably me.

 

I went in and out of consciousness more, as much as I tried to keep awake. The next I knew, Cas was being moved; a hole had been dug for him. My eyes flew open wide and I yelled, a muffled sound, but it was enough to distract the two. Please, please let it be enough.

 

“Shut up, Winchester!” _No, no, no, I can’t._ And when I wouldn’t, Azazel came over to me and pulled the cloth from my mouth. “Say it then, and quick.”

 

“Azazel, we haven’t the time for this.” Crowley sounded resigned, like he had dealt with Azazel’s idiocy before. He probably had.

 

My voice was thick with emotion, hoarse and rushed, my words blurring together at points. I just needed a distraction until I could come up with a plan. “You’re gonna killusforwhat? Because, ‘cuz you got put in as a fuckin' understudy to Cas?” I was hoping to make him pissed off enough that he’d make a mistake.

 

But Azazel kept his cool. “No. Well,” his head tilted back and forth, debating, “yes. But not only for that reason, but because you two are faggots and I’m not letting a fucking faggot outact me.”

 

I scoffed, but inside I was panicking all the more, and letting my anger get the best of me. I brushed off Azazel’s accusation of me being gay. It wasn’t worth it, and honestly, I didn’t care anymore. If I was gay, why did it matter? As long as I was with Cas, and he was safe, I was happy. _Fuck. I need to apologise to him, set this right. If I even get the chance..._ My realisation was quickly pushed aside though, not given much thought―besides my eyes widening when I put it together―as I said, “So you’re willing to kill us over a part? 'Cuz Cas is a better actor than you? What a joke.” I paused, and risked spitting, “You’re pathetic,” at him. I was desperate and needed something―anything―to get the chance of freeing Cas.

 

So Azazel kicked me, a solid crack to my ribs. A rough cry of pain tore from my lips and I knew that one was broken at least, but it didn’t matter. _It doesn’t matter,_ I told myself. “Azazel!” Crowley barked behind him, “Let’s get this done with so we can go home!”

 

Azazel turned his back on me and I ground out through gritted teeth, “Who seems like the faggot”―I grimaced at the term, didn’t like how it came from my lips, had my voice behind it―“here, Azazel? You’re following orders of your boyfriend pretty well.”

 

Azazel began to turn around, but before he could face me with his yellow eyes, a shift in the darkness hit him from the left and they tumbled to the ground. “Shut your fucking mouth about Dean!”

 

“Charlie?” I hissed, taken aback by her words. “What the hell are you doing, Charlie….”

 

“Saving your butt,” Charlie grunted before there was a crack on the ground, and I hoped to God that it was Azazel’s head and not Charlie’s. Thoughts flew through my head. First of Charlie, then myself, and finally, of Cas. He’s gonna be okay. Charlie’s gonna save him and he’s gonna be fine and everything will go back to normal. Thank God, thank God.

 

By that time, Crowley had dropped Cas and had started to go after Charlie. I started to call warning but Charlie caught on and I let my eyes slide closed for a moment. “Oh no you don’t!” she yelled, sweeping his legs from under him. The larger man fell, and all I could think was, _Where the hell did she learn that shit!_

 

 Charlie rushed to me and cut through the binds at my hands and feet blindly. I tried to stand. And fell back over. But I pushed through it and scrabbled over to Cas, the dark of night subsiding into early morning grey. “Cas, Cas!” I tried to keep my voice level, but I was emotional and panicked. “Cas, don’t be dead. I need you, buddy…” My head was chanting a mantra: _dontbedeaddontbedeaddontbedead_.

 

I gathered the smaller man in my arms and checked for a pulse. Still alive. My hands were trembling. I blinked through the tears I didn’t know I’d shed and tapped his cheek. “Cas, please.” My voice sounded cracked and pleading.

 

But he didn't wake. I babbled, leaning back, pulling Cas against my chest. "Don't die, man. I can't do this without you..." What exactly that was, I didn't know; I didn't want to find out.

 

Hiccups forced their way past my lips and I just sat there, vaguely hearing Charlie speaking quickly on the phone.

 

 _Cas is dying,_ I thought, _my best friend is dying what do I do, whatdoIdowhatdoIdo_.

 

"I didn't get to apologise, dammit. You might never know and what if"―my voice cracked and faded at that point―"what if I never get to tell you and you're just th-thinking that I hate you?" My fingers clutched in Cas' shirt, jaw and eyes clenched shut. "'Cuz I don't, Cas, I don't."

 

I tried to focus on calming down, to breathe and listen to Cas' shallow breaths. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, still pressing him close. And my mind finally stopped panicking, just... stopped. I thought my heart would stop.

 

The paramedics had to pry me away from Cas, telling me that they needed to rush him to the hospital. _'Critical condition,'_ I heard, hushed _, 'might not make it.'_

 

When Charlie helped me stand was when the pain in my ribs came flaring back, nearly blinding me. Paramedics forced me into an ambulance as well, and I was too numb to fight anymore.

 

 _Funny,_ I thought _, only ten minutes ago I wasn't going to give up, and here I am, just stopping._ It was almost laughable, in this totally not-laughable situation. I felt like a madman. A madman who possibly fucked up with Cas and couldn't make it up to him if he died. _No. He's not going to die. Nononono. He's gonna be fine, the hospital will help._ Tears pricked my eyes again and I told myself I wasn't gonna let myself cry again.

 

Charlie accompanied me to the hospital and I made her leave to watch over Cas. I think that's what I said, at least. Nurses hooked me up and I began to get drowsy from the pain meds. I let myself slip away, worried sick for Cas.


	13. Chapter 13: The Denouement and Curtain Fall

Chapter Thirteen

The Denouement and Curtain Fall

 

I woke to a stark white room, faint beeping in my ears, and a dull throb in my ribs. Everything from the night before came rushing back to me and I jerked up, eyes flashing around wildly. "Cas?" A sharper pain echoed through my midsection and I bit the inside of my cheek.

 

A rustle to my left and my head whipped over to see Sam standing, his eyes wide, face white as a sheet. "Dean! You're awake."

 

"Where's Cas?" I stared at my brother, watching his reaction. Sam's face stayed neutral and I thought the worst. I swallowed and when he didn't answer, I slowly, gingerly, laid back down and groped for the remote. After I raised my bed, I looked at Sam again. "Sammy," my voice was rough and unused, "how long have I been asleep?" I dreaded the answer.

 

Sam shook his head. "A day, Dean. What happened?"

 

A swallow. "Can I have some water?" I asked, instead of answering. I didn't want to talk about it and didn't want to face it.

 

Sam handed me a cup of water and sat back down, edging the chair closer to me. "Please, Dean. You scared the crap outta Bobby and me." Sam seemed to be willing to wait for me to speak.

 

I took a sip of water―the taste was one of the sweetest things I'd ever had and I had to tell myself not to chug it down―and waited. And waited. But I needed to go see Cas. I wasn't going to address the elephant in the room. "Sammy, I need to see Cas. Is he okay?" I pushed down the feeling in my stomach and asked, "Is Castiel alive?"

 

Sam nodded quickly, hearing the rising panic in my voice. "Yeah, yeah, Cas is fine. He's sleeping."

 

A jolt went through me as I remembered. _I lost my privilege to call him that by being a royal dick._ I set down my water and pushed myself up, gritting my teeth in the pain.

 

"Dean, don't. You can see him later." Sam stood to press me back down.

 

"Don't!" Sam's hands froze an inch away from my shoulder. I continued to push off and onto the floor, standing, testing my weight on the linoleum and wiggling my toes. As much as I loved and trusted my brother, I didn't believe him. I needed to see Cas for myself.

 

I tore the IV from my arm, much to Sam's horror, and slowly walked to the door, wincing the whole way. Setting my hand on the knob, I sighed, closing my eyes. "What room, Sammy?"

 

"613," came the response from behind me, sounding resigned.

 

So I walked out into the hallway, nurses trying to stop me. All I needed was a glare and they backed off. Good. I held a hand on my ribs and looked at the number beside my door. _438_. I groaned. G _reat, he's upstairs._ "At least he's not in the morgue," I mumbled to myself, making my way to the elevator.

 

Hurriedly, I pressed the button for the sixth floor. Multiple times. And the door-close. I nearly jumped out when the doors opened and scanned the hallway for number 613.

 

Softly, I pushed open the door, dreading the worst, hoping for the best.

 

What awaited me nearly brought me to tears again. What I hadn't seen last night were all of the cuts and hits Crowley and Azazel made to Cas' face. They were patched up, but still very visible.

 

And Naomi. Naomi Novak was sitting beside him, holding his hand. She looked up as I stepped into the room and my breath hitched. “Get out,” I said sharply, wincing and pressing a hand to my side.

 

“You think you belong here? When this is your fault? No, Dean,” Naomi stood. “I think you need to leave.”

 

I licked my lips and my voice cracked, almost pleading, “Just let me see him… please, Mrs. Novak…”

 

A sigh and then… Naomi stood and walked to my side. She looked up at me and I nodded faintly to her. “Thank you…”

 

Her lips twitched unpleasantly. “This isn’t permission,” she said haltingling, and left.

 

I exhaled my tension and hesitantly stepped to the side of the bed and drug a chair up next to him. Sinking into it, I exhaled. My side was killing me. My fingers steepled and were pressed against my lips.

 

Cas was... unnervingly still. I could see his chest rise and fall, but there was a quiet stillness that freaked the fuck outta me.

 

"Cas," I started, my voice cracking and dying in my throat. "Cas I'm sorry... Please, I need you." My throat constricted and my eyes itched. "Fuck," I breathed, pressing fingers to my eyes.

 

But then there was a deeper inhale, and a soft groan on the exhale. My eyes flew open and I stopped breathing altogether.

 

Eyelids fluttered. “D-Dean…” a whispered voice met my ears and I nearly cried in relief. Actually, I may have. Cas’ blue eyes met my green ones. “Are you okay?” His brow crinkled in concern. “You’re crying…. What happened?”

 

"Am I?" I asked weakly. I almost laughed at how stupid he sounded, being worried over me when Cas was the one nearly dead. I leaned over the bed and lost it, sobbing against Cas’ arm. I whispered words like _‘I’m sorry, Cas I’m sorry,’_ and others that I don’t remember, lips brushing against his bare arm. “You scared the shit outta me,” I whispered after a moment. All the while, Cas was stiff and stunned, me having never shown much affection to him. Well I was fucking terrified. I think I was allowed. Slowly, he gripped my shoulder―which was all he could reach without getting too close―and squeezed comfortingly.

 

"Dean," Cas started. He sighed and I felt fingers slowly nest in my hair before carding their way through.

 

The act soothed me, something I hadn't expected. Fuck. When Cas didn't say anything more, I started to panic again. "I fucked everything up, didn't I? I got pissed and panicked when your mom showed up and got you hurt." I sat up, severing the contact between us, and stared down at the sheet. And Cas' bruised wrists. And my own. And sucked in my breath, enjoying the sharp edge of pain that grounded me. I could feel Cas' eyes probing my face, my expression, my thoughts. "I was stupid and now you probably hate my guts and I just"―I stood up to leave―"wanted to make sure that you were okay, Cas. Good luck next week."

 

I'd had enough. Emotions weren't my thing and I was done making a fool of myself.

 

“M-my mother showed up to talk to you, Dean?” I expected the look on his face to be shock, but I wasn’t gonna stay long enough to see it. But when I turned to stand, Cas' fingers caught mine and he said softly, "Tell me the bad times are clean washed away." I froze and looked at him from the corner of my eye. Cas' face was open and hopeful, but his eyes displayed hurt and worry. "Please, Dean, I-I'm not okay if you're not here..."

 

The first part of what Cas said struck a familiar chord in my memory, though the second made my heart skip. _Fuck you, heart. Don't you dare._ "Did you just..." I trailed off and changed the direction of my words. "Did you just quote Seymour at me?" Somehow, it made me feel a little better and released some of the tension in my body. Maybe we could still be friends.

 

Cas nodded a little bit, hesitantly, and continued peering at me like a sad puppy. I finally saw that everything―not just Crowley and Azazel nearly killing us―was messing with him by the dark circles under his eyes. The worn expression on his face.

 

"Cas," I breathed. I was... terrified. But somehow, the tight grip Cas had on my fingers brought me back. I reached into my Little Shop of Horrors memory bank and pulled out, "Tell me this feelin'll last till forever...." I was really going out on a limb, out of my comfort-zone. _Since when did this happen?_ I thought, _Since when did one person come in and mess around my entire life?_

                                                                                                                                            

I hadn't come out straight and told him, not after blowing up on him and pushing him away, but I had just implied it. I had been scared of what might have been happening to me; hell, I didn't even realise it until we were about to die. _I'm in love with Cas,_ I thought.

 

I was rewarded with a small grin. He still looked weary and worried, but it was something. "That's backwards, Dean."

 

My eyebrows shot up slightly, as a challenge and a point, and I pushed the thought from my mind for the moment being.

 

Cas' mouth formed an o and he squeaked, "Does this mean we're okay?"

 

I sat back down and kept a hold on his hand. "Yeah man, this means we're okay. And, I'm sorry. For everything. For freaking out on you. I was just"―I cleared my throat―"scared."

 

"I know, Dean. And I apologise too. I shouldn't have pushed you like I did. I should have guessed that my mother’d have a ‘talk’ with you."

 

I shook my head. "No. It was stupid. You were my best friend. Fuck, Cas, you _are_ my best friend." Once again, I was staring at the sheet and wishing I wasn't having this conversation right now.

 

Cas' fingers found my hair again and he tugged lightly until I was looking at him. "Dean, I don't expect anything from you. Not now, not ever. I'm content right here where I am." His eyes crinkled and he chuckled a little. "Figuratively, of course. I don't want to be in the hospital."

 

But dammit, that wasn't good enough. And I voiced that. "That's not fucking good enough for me." I shook my head. "Not anymore." And I surged forward out of my chair and kissed him. One hand beside Cas' head, the other next to his hip.

 

When we parted, I whispered, "Cas, I..." But the words wouldn't come. I wasn't sure if I was afraid, or didn't know what to say. No, I knew what I wanted to say. _I love you_. But I just couldn’t force my voice to work it out.

 

Cas shushed me and murmured, "I know, Dean. I know. It's okay. Sit back down before Sam has a heart attack." I could hear the humour in his voice and saw the smile as I turned scarlet and sat back in my chair.

 

_At least one of us is joking,_ I thought, rubbing my forehead. I composed myself quickly and looked up at Sam. "Sammy, I uh, didn't hear you come in."

 

“You’re uh,” Sam cleared his throat, his face red, “the nurse is flipping her crap, Dean. And, Castiel’s mother is out in the waiting room having a fit.” Sam shuffled out, looking pretty damn embarrassed.

 

Hell, I was embarrassed too. I stood slowly, wincing, and said, “I guess I’ll leave you to your mom.”

 

Cas sighed. “Yes, the wrath that is my mother. Great.” Cas hesitated before adding, “I’ll see you at rehearsal?”

 

“Of course you will.” I grinned and turned to go. “You aren’t getting rid of me now.”

 

And if I gave Naomi Novak the dirtiest look I’ve ever given a human before, well, no one was the wiser.


	14. Chapter 14: How the Musical Went and Curtain Call

Chapter Fourteen

How the Musical Went and Curtain Call

 

When it all came down to it, the production went well. It had to be postponed because of Cas being in the hospital for about a week, but no one protested. It also gave me a bit more time to perfect being The Dentist, as much as I loathed it.

 

Oh yeah, to explain that. Well, I should’ve guessed that when Charlie clocked Crowley and Azazel, they’d be kicked out of the production. But what I didn’t guess was that Gabriel would need to have someone stand in. And since I basically knew all of the lines already, I was a shoe-in for the part.

 

Dress rehearsal was something in itself. I did fine; Cas did fine; everyone did fine.

 

When I wasn’t on stage, Gabriel approached me. “You saved Castiel’s life,” he said to me, “I’d let you do about anything at this point. And good job on the Dentist.” He clapped me on the shoulder and grinned ear to ear, beaming with gratitude.

 

I crossed my arms across my chest and watched as Benny—who was cast as Audrey II—and Cas sang to each other. “There is one thing,” I replied, giving Gabriel a sidelong glance. “Let him move in with me. After the whole deal with your mother, and the thing with Crowley…”

 

“Yes.” Gabriel looked at me and repeated himself, probably because of the look on my face. He then promptly walked up to the stage and started giving orders.

 

I let out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding and watched, a grin on my lips.

 

Halfway through Cas and Meg singing the reprise of “Suddenly Seymour”—the one at the very end—before taking out the plant, Benny thought it’d be fucking _hilarious_ to appear and ‘eat’ Castiel. And it was. The song cut off abruptly and the look on Cas’ face was priceless. I wish I had taken a picture, but I was too busy laughing.

 

Gabriel barely got them back on track to finish rehearsal.

 

Afterwards, Cas made his way over to me. Before he could say anything, I blurt out, “Move in with me, Cas. Get out of that house.”

 

Cas looked surprised and hesitant, and I wondered if I went too far. “Dean,” he said, and I waited patiently for him to continue. “I want to.” Cas held up his hands and I sensed a ‘but’. “I do, Dean. But,”— _ah there it is. Shit_ —“over the summer. I need a little bit of time to figure things out.” He was picking at the hem of his vest, a nervous habit, so I reached over and took his hands to stop him, and to reassure him.

 

“What you mean is, you want to make sure I don’t fuck it up again.” I hadn’t said it to be accusatory. I was genuinely afraid of fucking it up again.

 

Cas nodded slowly, as though hesitant I’d lash out.

 

And though I was a little hurt, I couldn’t help but agree. “I get it, Cas, don’t look so scared of me.” I wanted to add ‘please’, but I couldn’t force myself to form the word.

 

“I just don’t want to lose you again, Dean,” he said softly, blushing and looking down at his feet.

 

I sighed and smoothed my thumb over Cas’. _Who would’ve guessed I was a closet hand-holder?_ I thought. _But then again, who would have guessed I was a closet gay?_ Slowly, it was starting to stop bothering me.

 

“Castiel,” I said, and waited for Cas to look up at me. When he did, I continued with, “You’re not gonna lose me. Not again. I’ll make mistakes, but I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

 

Cas smiled, one that crinkled his eyes. “Then I trust you.”

-

The musical went well. Cas and I almost cracked the fuck up when he had to ‘kill’ me, but we made it through. After I was finished with my part, I stayed back behind the curtains and grabbed Castiel before he had to go back on, landing a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

 

What I hadn’t intended was for Cas to throw his arms around me and kiss me on the lips, fully missing his entrance. When Cas made it on the stage, his hair was more a mess than usual and his lips were red and stretched into a large grin. No one was the wiser.

 

On the final showing, things got a little crazy. Since it was the last night, Gabriel gave us all the leeway to do whatever the fuck we pleased. Cas and I switched parts for a song, which caught everyone laughing, but what was really unexpected was when during curtain call, I stepped into my spot to bow, and instead, I grabbed Cas and kissed him there on the stage, in front of everyone.

 

There were a number of cat calls, whoops, and applause all around, and the loudest whistle came from Bobby, who beside him, Sam was grinning like an idiot.

 

I had to admit that it was the best thing I ever did, continue on a conversation with Castiel Novak the moment I met him.

 

**Summer**

“That’s the last of it, I think,” Cas said, wiping sweaty palms on his pants.

 

We’d spent nearly all day moving Cas in to my apartment; two chairs, a desk, his bookshelf. God forbid Cas didn’t leave his bookshelf. The bed was left at his mother’s house because honestly? That ship sailed months ago.

 

I nodded and followed Castiel into my apartment—our apartment. “Looks great, everything’s in place.” I looked at Cas and smiled, finally relaxing. I’ll admit that I had been a little nervous when we started to plan the move, but was decidedly happy with the result.

 

I stopped in the front room and grabbed Cas’ arm, spinning him around to face me. “Welcome home,” I said before curling my fingers in his hair and kissing him.

 

Castiel smiled against my lips and whispered, “I’m home,” before kissing me back.


End file.
